"With these grave fops, whose system seems / To give up certainty for dreams / The eye of man is understood / As for no other purpose good / Than as a door, through which, of course, / Their passage crowding objects force; / A downright usher, to admit / New-comers to the court of Wit."

"Grown old in villainy, and dead to grace, / Hell in his heart, and TYBURNE in his face; / Behold, a Parson at thy Elbow stands, / Low'ring damnation, and with open hands / Ripe to betray his Saviour for reward; / The Atheist Chaplain of an Atheist Lord."

"May I be scorn'd by ev'ry man of worth, / Wander, like Cain, a vagabond on earth, / Bearing about a Hell in my own mind, / Or be to SCOTLAND for my life confin'd, / If I am one amongst the many known, / Whom SHELBURNE fled, and CALCRAFT blush'd to own."